[Exaggeratedly looks over shoulders][Stops pushing twin burdens of pent-up rage and grocery cart full of Sad Man Meals for a moment]

"I'm sorry, Robert. There's got to be some kind of mistake here. I'm not at the public library's biweekly sleight of hand demonstration, and yet my eyes deceive me. I'm not listening to my mother read the weekend box office to me over the phone, and so I don't know that Tyler Perry's Temptation, which mindbogglingly is the actual title of the film, raked in $21.6M. But my ears — they've failed me. Did you just wish me a "nice day"?

Did you not just ring up a case of Lysol Disinfectant Spray, with coupon, and place it haphazardly into my cart (build like a pyramid, Robert). Weren't you working the belt when a brand new pair of rubber gloves slid across the scanner? I know you saw the new blanket I stowed under the cart, because you refused to remove the portable scanner from its holster and instead forced me to shove it in your face. It's pretty clear, isn't it, what happened to your friend BronzeHammer this morning?

My dog shit in his crate.

Around 3 am

My dog:[to self] Wow I have to shit real bad. My other dog: Oh, no way. What are you going to do, dude? Everyone's asleep. My dog: [stands, faces wall for some dumb reason] Well, I'm not sure. [lets loose a fucking big ass turd, which explodes through the bars of the crate like sausage through a grinder]My other dog: Dude, I think you hit the couch with that one.My dog: [turns around] Oh god. [fucking paints the wall with another beautiful volley] I feel better now.My other dog: I'M TELLING